


Just Beyond the Veil

by potterswinchesters



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Canon Divergence, Castiel Dies, First Kiss, Fluff and Angst, M/M, POV Castiel, Season/Series 14, The Empty (Supernatural)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-17
Updated: 2019-01-17
Packaged: 2019-10-11 20:12:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,590
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17453507
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/potterswinchesters/pseuds/potterswinchesters
Summary: Castiel decides that he would much rather die happy than live in misery.





	Just Beyond the Veil

Castiel is happy for the first time in a long while when he tells Dean.

It’s not an overwhelming joy; more of a contentedness. They aren’t doing anything but standing in the kitchen after dinner. It’s all very mundane, really, and ten years ago Castiel would never have imagined that something as simple as washing the dishes with Dean would be able to warm him from the inside out.

But the guilt weighs heavy on his shoulders, and the Empty’s words constantly linger at the back of his mind: _“And then, when you finally give yourself permission to be happy, and let the sun shine on your face—that’s when I’ll come. That’s when I’ll come to drag you to nothing.”_

So when the dishes are clean and dry, and they’re stealing glances, both lingering for no other reason than to be around each other for just a little longer, Castiel tells him.

* * *

 “It was me or him. I couldn’t let him just go to the Empty,” Castiel says, tears brimming his eyes. Light melts all around him when he tries to blink them away. “Dean, Jack is needed here. He has a chance to bring some real change to this world once his grace regenerates fully. And when it’s all over, he can be happy in his afterlife. He has his mother there, waiting for him. I, on the other hand… I’m not needed. There’s no one waiting for me.”

“How _could_ you—”

Dean breaks off and drags a hand through his hair, turning his back on Castiel. The action is so rough it’s almost as though Dean intends to hurt himself, and it makes Castiel ache with longing. He wants to take Dean in his arms, press gentle kisses to his eyelids, whisper to him sweet nothings. Sweet everythings.

_I long to know the taste of every inch of you._

_You make me hear colour and see melodies._

_You’re beautiful, from the scars on your body to the intricacies of your mind._

_I would stop the world from turning if it meant I could keep you from ever being in pain again._

Dean rounds on him. His eyes—the green of sunlight pooling over moss—are wild, catching fire before Castiel. “How could you fucking say that? How could you _ever_ think—after all this time—”

“What, Dean? _What?_ ” Castiel demands, clenching his fists at his sides. He’s used to feeling urges to reach out and touch Dean, but it’s never been stronger than it is now.

_Resist_ , he tells himself every time.

“How could you think that you’re not needed?” Dean bursts out. “That you’re not wanted? That there’s no one waiting for you? I’m _right here_ , Cas! I would wait an eternity for you, you fucking dumbass! Christ, it feels like I already have.”

“Dean…”

But Dean isn’t finished. He steps into Castiel’s personal space and shoves him backwards against the wall, holding onto the lapels of his trench coat for dear life. Castiel allows himself to be maneuvered with little resistance. His gaze darts to Dean’s mouth. He wants to close the space between their lips. He wants to roll his hips against Dean’s and feel Dean hard against him. He wants a lot of things, but he’s held back for so long already that he doesn’t know how to take anything for himself.

“When I saw Lucifer stab you through the chest and watched the light leave your eyes, I said to myself, ‘Well, there it goes.’” His voice is low and rough; a juxtaposition to his soft eyes and gentle hands. “My chance at happiness. I screwed it up by never tellin’ you how I felt. I always thought a better time would come, and then just like that, you were gone. And I was a fucking mess when you were dead. I was drinking myself to death. I just wanted it all to be over. And yeah, I know that’s not what you’d’ve wanted for me, but it was how I felt. I’ve been losing people I love since I was four. But when it was you… I don’t know. I was just tired, man. And it was different, ’cause I’ve never felt for anyone what I feel for you. So don’t you _ever_ ,” he says, voice a steady decrescendo, “think I wouldn’t wait here forever for you.”

A feeling of hope like no other tears through Castiel. Dean is shivering against him, hands still curled over his lapels. Castiel doesn’t think he’s ever seen him so open and vulnerable.

“I feel your longing,” Castiel divulges. Quietly, like it’s a secret he wants to keep just between the two of them. “I feel it all the time, whether we’re together or apart. I feel it right now, stronger than ever. I suppose I just assumed I was sensing what I wanted to sense, rather than what was really there. I never truly considered that…”

“That I love you back,” he finishes.

Castiel stiffens.

“You what?” he asks.

He heard wrong. He has to have heard wrong. But then:

“I love you,” Dean breathes.

Twice Castiel has said those words. Once it was uttered from his dying lips—to them, to all of them, to _Dean_ —and a second time as a justification to a boy who’d become his son.

Never had he heard the words back. Not until this moment. He feels like he’s spinning madly when Dean slides a hand to the back of Castiel’s neck and pulls him in for a kiss.

This isn’t how Castiel imagined kissing him for the first time. In his mind, it had always been rough, filled with desperation and pent-up sexual tension. All teeth and tongue and wandering hands. He doesn’t know why, but he’s always been under the impression that Dean kisses like he’s dying for it. Under different circumstances maybe; but right now, his mouth is subtle as a whisper. Maybe he’s denying himself, maybe he’s terrified of taking what he wants.

Maybe he’s afraid that Castiel might disappear in front of him… and God, he just might. After years of learning to love, his heart just about human—it soars.

He no longer has his wings, but he feels like he can fly again.

And he understands.

* * *

Castiel feels the entity creeping up on him.

It’s a peculiar but unforgettable feeling; a chill crawling up the length of his vessel’s spine. He recalls experiencing a similar sensation when he was human (nights on the streets with no shelter were awfully cold), but _this_ runs deeper. He can feel the darkness tugging on his grace, threatening to reel him in at any moment.

“Dean,” Castiel says, “there are so many things I never told you…”

“It’s okay, Cas, we’ve got time,” Dean assures, “and we’re gonna figure this out—”

“No,” interrupts Castiel.

Concern pulls Dean’s eyebrows together. He looks like he too has a million things to say, but Castiel doesn’t have any time to waste.

“No, listen to me. I don’t want you to blame yourself.”

“What’re you talking about? Cas, I told you, I ain’t gonna let anything take you from me. Not _ever again_ , you hear me?”

He smiles and cups Dean’s jaw. Tips forward to knock their foreheads together. “So strong. So courageous.”

“Don’t you go losin’ hope on me, you sonuvabitch,” Dean mutters, breaths coming in rocky. “You’re not allowed to give up. Not after everything.”

“It was never up to us,” Castiel tells him. “This is how it’s supposed to be. I see that now. I can’t break my deal if I want Jack to live. There is nothing more we can do. And I’m sorry, Dean, I truly am, but… I had not had a purpose here. Not until I raised you from perdition, and learned what it was to fall and choose and love. I wish we could’ve had more time.”

“Cas…” Dean’s face falls.

“It’s here.”

Dean’s voice quakes. “Don’t—don’t leave me, you bastard.”

“Don’t ever blame yourself,” Castiel says again. “Please don’t. You’ve made me so happy, and I realize that I’d much rather die happy than live in misery.”

“No,” Dean grunts, clutching tighter to Castiel.

“The Empty thinks it’s punishing me. It thinks that this is a worse fate to suffer. It doesn’t understand because it’s never been alive. Not the way I am when I’m with you.”

The hunter shudders against him, a sob breaking free. Castiel wishes he could shield Dean from this pain, but there’s nothing to do except to keep talking.

“I’m not going anywhere. Not really,” he promises, unshed tears prickling his eyes once more. “I’ll be dead, but I won’t be gone. Everything will be just as it was. You’ll still be you and I’ll still be me. Everything up until this moment will remain exactly as it is. I’ll be just beyond the veil. Don’t you understand?” Castiel takes Dean’s face in his hands and presses a kiss to his hairline. “I’m happy, Dean. I need you to let me go.”

Castiel feels the grace fading inside him, sputtering out like a dying flame. Before he sleeps forever—before the stars go out and the darkness of the Empty swallows him whole—he elects to pull back slightly and look at Dean one last time. That soul he loves so much, radiant beneath the body of flesh it inhabits, is no different than it was when Castiel rescued it from Hell a decade ago.

He dies with a smile dusting his lips.


End file.
